Sunday, 12 July 2009

The Problem With Sundays

It's a bastard of a day is a Sunday. The intention is to lie in bed for as long as you can, get all the week ahead's preparations over and done with quickly and spend the rest of the day watching omnibus soaps - not because you want to but to deprive men of the widescreen telly.

So how come today I was awoken with an almighty crash of cymbals and toms hitting my bedroom floor (that's me up then!), my iron deciding to pack in (so I have to buy a new iron and tackle all the clothes tomorrow) and there's motor-racing and golf on the telly (sports that 'simply cannot' be watched on any screen smaller than a 32 inch!).

Ah, well. Looks like today is up to me to cook dinner then. How many jalapeno's do you need for a cottage pie? None you say? There will be in MY recipe book.

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